The Boondock Sons
by musicandme37
Summary: Noah McManus gets to know his sons, whilst they learn to trust him. Set in the first film, between the scene with Connor, Murphy and Il Duce in Papa Joe's house and the court room scene.


Hi Boondock fans! I only discovered the Boondock Saints films this year (how it took me so long is beyond me) and jesus christ (lord's name...I know :P) they are AWESOME XD I so hope the third film goes ahead!

Anyway, this is my first ever Boondock Saints fic. I hope you enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Saints :(

* * *

When Il Duce had been released to kill someone for Yakavetta, naturally he had been expecting a great, notorious opponent. Yakavetta wouldn't want a hit-man like Il Duce on his hands unless the person who needed killing was a real concern or threat.

Needless to say Il Duce had been slightly disappointed. The kid, David Della Rocco or 'The Funny Man', was merely an errand boy for Yakavetta's mafia, who had been trying to impress for far too long and consequently knew far too much.

Il Duce had deducted that taking out Rocco was going to be easy.

But what Il Duce hadn't been expecting, was the other two.

And here he was, pointing a gun at each of their heads.

Rocco was dead, slumped back in a chair with coins on his closed eyelids.  
Il Duce was the hit-man, but he hadn't been the one to make the hit. His target had been stolen from him. Actually, it seemed a lot of his work had been done for him. Papa Joe had left but several of his men were already dead by the time Il Duce had arrived. He'd only had to slit one throat and only had to knock out one woman.

So these two boys – for that was how he saw them, almost too young for all of this – would have to do. They'd been brave, the pair of them, in the shootout they had had in the street the day before. Rocco had been down pretty quickly, but the two others carried on shooting. And even after he'd got the darker-haired one in the arm, the lighter-haired one had remained, furiously firing until the kid had got a bullet in the leg and Il Duce had backed off.

Rocco seemed reckless, with personal vendettas against the people the three had murdered, whilst the other two seemed content in merely killing bad men. They were all obviously amateurs, but excluding Rocco, they were rather skilled amateurs. They were steady, focused, determined. Il Duce had been relatively impressed.

It was almost going to be a waste to shoot them really, but Il Duce had his orders.

He was steady as his left-hand pointed a gun at the dark-haired one, and his right at the other. They hadn't noticed him yet, and he doubted they would. They'd be dead before they realized what was happening. They had their backs to him, knelt in front of their dead friend Rocco.

But then they started muttering words; words that sparked recognition in Il Duce's memory. He took a step or two towards them, until the words became clearer, the memory of them growing stronger.

They said the words together, in perfect unison, well-practiced and perfect:  
"And Shepherds we shall be  
For thee, my Lord, for thee.  
Power hath descended forth from Thy hand..."

They must have heard Il Duce put away his guns as they turned round with a flourish, their hands finding their own guns quickly and with ease.

If Il Duce were sensible, he should have re-aimed his weapons, but at that moment, he was no longer Il Duce. He was no longer the assassin. He was Noah McManus, the father of twin boys that he hadn't seen since they were babies.

And though he had no idea how the boys had found themselves in Boston, such a long way from Ireland and their Ma, he had absolutely no doubt - a sense of firm certainty – that the two barrels he was looking down were being held by his sons.

"Our feet may swiftly carry out Thy command." Il Duce continued the family prayer that no-one outside of their family knew. Their bloodline prayer passed down from his father, to him, to these two: his devastated, beautiful sons. And they were his boys, because they stared at him with a mixture of recognition and uncertainty, knowing what he knew – only their family knew that prayer.  
"So we shall flow a river forth to Thee  
And teeming with souls shall it ever be.  
In Nomeni Patri Et Fili Spiritus Sancti."

By the time he'd reached them and finished the prayer, their weapons had lowered in loose grips by their sides, and they stared up at him with wide eyes. He placed one hand to the dark one's cheek and put his other hand under the fairer one's chin, to lift up his head to get a good look at him.

The only problem now was determining which one was which. The day he had left them they'd barely been able to toddle three steps. It had been a long time.

"Connor." He said, eyes switching between the two uncertainly, until confirmation came in the fairer one's nod.

"Murphy." He looked to the darker one, who then nodded quickly, never breaking eye contact.

Noah heard a noise from outside of the room. It was either the woman waking up or more of Papa Joe's men arriving. Either way; it didn't bode well for his boys. "We have to go." He said. "Now."

Connor got to his feet unsteadily; he was still limping from the bullet wound in his leg. Noah had done that to his son, he thought with a pang of guilt. Murphy didn't move, he just looked up at Connor and then over at Rocco.

"Murph." Connor said softly, voice wavering. "We have to leave him."

Murphy stood up with effort, his left arm hanging uselessly at his side, his hand broken and mangled. "I know."

"We must go." Noah insisted. Normally he would relish a fight with whoever had arrived at the house, but his boys were injured and emotional and he would not have them in the line of fire in their current states.

He walked to the door and looked back at the twins. The boys took one last look at Rocco. Connor reached out a hand to smooth some hair back from their dead friend's face.

"Bye Roc." Murphy whispered, and then Connor grabbed Murphy's good wrist, pulling him gently from the room.

x-x

Noah drove them away from Papa Joe's house. The boys sat huddled together and quiet in the back seat. He knew both of them were still eyeing him with mistrust. Connor looked wary, Murphy suspicious. But soon enough they turned their attentions to each other. Through the rear-view mirror he saw Connor take Murphy's injured hand and cradle it in his lap, "I'm sorry Murph."

Murphy's response was hushed, but Noah heard it nonetheless. "You had to break it. We wouldn't have got out otherwise."

"You decided to Kirby." Connor corrected his brother.

Noah had no idea what 'Kirby' was. He assumed it was some sort of twin-code-word, so that they could communicate without Noah knowing fully what they were discussing.

"I don't Kirby." Murphy's response was sharp. "You do."

"Well maybe I should have done that tonight." Connor said, inspecting his brother's hand with surprising delicacy.

Murphy hissed with a mixture of pain and foul amusement. "Like you always do." He snorted. "You'd have been no use to us with a busted leg _and_ a broken hand, whilst me, my arm was already wounded." Murphy's dark eyes locked with Noah's in the mirror. "Thanks for that, by the way."

Noah looked away. "Sorry boys."

Neither responded and neither spoke for a while. It was only when Connor had finished assessing his brother's hand that he spoke up "Murphy needs to go to hospital to get this fixed."

"We can't." Noah said simply. They were all murderers here; they didn't need the police involved.

"We can if we get Smecker." Connor said.

Noah didn't know if 'Smecker' was a twin code-word as well, or if he was actually meant to understand that one.

"Smecker?" He repeated.

"Yeah, we'll ring Smecker. He'll sort it." Murphy agreed.

"So…we are going to the hospital." Connor said firmly, eyes challenging Noah's in the mirror.

Noah changed direction and headed towards the hospital.

x-x

Smecker turned out to be an FBI Special Agent who seemed to be somehow allied to his sons. Smecker needed to be at the hospital anyway, because he was being checked out for a hit on the head. It looked like he was wearing make-up, but Noah didn't comment.

Smecker made sure everything was sorted and that both boys were seen to. The injuries on their faces were cleaned up as well as Murphy's mangled hand. The boys didn't want to be separated, so they were treated in same room, with Noah made to wait outside.

Most importantly, Smecker made sure that the McManus men were not asked questions. Though that didn't mean he hadn't any questions of his own. Noah sat outside the door, earwigging on Smecker's interrogation of the twins.  
Smecker wanted to know how the boys weren't in the house when he got to the room they were supposed to be in, he wanted to know exactly what had happened to Rocco, he wanted to know who Noah was…

Connor replied bluntly to that one, "Our long lost father."

Smecker had been shocked – Noah would have been mightily surprised if he hadn't been – but the FBI Agent didn't pry further. However, the moment Smecker had stepped out of the room and down the corridor to tell the nurses that the cops were not to be informed of the pair's injuries, Murphy was the one who decided to pry into Connor's statement.

"You really think he's our Da?" Noah heard Murphy ask his twin.

"He knows the family prayer, brother. The only other people in the world that would know that prayer are our own parents."

"He was shooting at us yesterday."

"He didn't know who we were and we didn't know who he was. We shot back, remember?"

"But why would he be here? In Boston…America…of all places?" Murphy asked. There was a pause and then he spoke again, "You don't look too surprised Con. You knew our Da was in America, didn't you?"

Noah heard Connor sigh. "Before we left for America, Ma was drunk and told me we were following in our father's footsteps but if we ended up in prison like him she'd murder the both of us."

"And you didn't tell me? Con! This is Kirby all over again!"

There was that code-word again.

"I know. I'm sorry. I didn't really think anything of it. I thought she meant we were following his footsteps by leaving home, but now I think about it, she must have meant going to America like him."

...

During their whole time spent at the hospital, there was no direct spoken confirmation between the McManus brothers and their father that they were indeed his sons; though his sons continued to argue about it between themselves at length.

It wasn't until Noah booked them into a motel room that night that he told them everything they wanted to know.

x-x

Noah looked up from his chair when Connor joined him on the decking outside the motel room door. He looked back through the door just before it closed, to spot Murphy passed out on the bed – drowsy due to the pain relief drugs he had taken for his hand.

When the door was closed Noah held out an unlit cigar to his son. Connor wrinkled his nose and shook his head, reaching in his pocket for his own pack of cigarettes. Noah shrugged and lit up his cigar, before passing Connor the lighter.

Connor took a drag and then let the smoke flow from his mouth and away into the dark sky, "Do you think Murph looks like Ma?" He asked. His tone was light and joking, but Noah could still see the grief in his eyes at losing his friend. Murphy was still openly grieving but Connor was attempting to lock it up. Noah assumed it was in an effort to be strong for his brother, but every now and again Connor's armour would slip. "He hates it when I say it but it's not just me is it? He does look like her."

Noah smiled fondly in agreement. "He does have some resemblances to your Ma, particularly in her younger days." He watched his son smile in triumph. "And you, you look rather a lot like a younger version of me."

Connor looked down at him. "Really?"

"Really." Noah said. They were quiet for a moment, and then Noah said "Murphy still seems suspicious of me."

Connor looked away and took another drag, "You did kind of pop up from nowhere." He said fairly. "And it takes time for Murph to trust people, but once he does he's fiercely loyal. He'll get there."

"And you?"

"I'll get there too."

"I understand you'll need time. I've missed so much of your lives and I regret that more than anything. You know there was not a day that went by that I didn't think of you and your brother. I'm proud of both of you. Remember that. I'm proud of how you stick together, stand up for each other and protect each other."

"Murphy is the most important thing in the world to me, and I to him."

"I can see that." Noah had seen that multiple times since finding his sons again.

They smoked in silence for a minute or two, the smoke lingering slightly, trapped under the motel porch.

"What is Kirby?" Noah asked, breaking the silence. He wanted to understand his sons and to trust them, and for them to trust him in return, he wanted to know as much about them as possible. "I've heard you both say it a couple of times tonight."

He watched Connor duck his head with a smile. "Kirby." He repeated. "Kirby was our pet dog when we were younger. He was an Irish Wolfhound and me and Murph loved him, and Ma did too, though she often said otherwise." He chuckled quietly and continued, "Anyway, one day when we were twelve, Murph got a detention at school. The teachers had stopped putting us in detention together when we caused trouble because they knew that didn't work, so they'd punish either one or the other of us. They wouldn't let me hang around and wait for him either, so I went home. When I got home I found Ma burying Kirby in the garden. He'd been hit by the Finnigan's truck. I knew how upset Murphy would be so I made Ma promise not to tell him Kirby had died. When Murphy came home we told him that we couldn't afford to keep Kirby anymore and Ma had had to sell him to a farm several towns over. He believed that for three years. It was the longest I'd ever kept a secret from him and lied to him. When he found out he was furious. He was upset about Kirby of course, and he was angry, but not because of me and Ma lying to him. He was angry because I had had to live with the sadness of Kirby dying alone in order to protect him. Since that day, whenever I do something to protect him that then hurts me mentally or physically, he calls it 'Kirby'ing."

"And what about when he does the same thing in order to protect you?"

"Oh no." Connor snorted, letting smoke exhale as he did so. "That's allowed apparently."

"So he's allowed to protect you and not the other way round?"

"Yep, and in my eyes it's the other way round." Connor dropped the butt of his cigarette to the motel decking and scuffed over it with his boot.

"Well you've got me to protect you both now as well." Noah said. He wasn't going to leave his sons again.

Connor gave him a small smile, one that Noah was sure would grow and brighten towards him over time and through strengthening of trust. One day Noah would receive the same smile from Connor that Connor gave to Murphy. Noah was determined about that.

"I know. And you now have us to protect you." Connor said. "Goodnight."

"Night Connor."

Connor disappeared back inside, leaving his father alone, finishing his cigar on the porch, smiling in the dark.

x-x

It was two weeks later when one of the twins first called their father 'Da'. And surprisingly it wasn't Connor.

The two had been wrestling on the bed over the last bottle of beer.

"It's mine!" Murphy yelled in protest, reaching for the bottle with his bandaged hand and hitting his brother with his _Aequitas_ hand.

"I believe you'll find, dear brother, that it's mine." Connor said, holding the bottle out of Murphy's reach and keeping his brother away by spreading his _Veritas_ hand over Murphy's angry face.

"It's not! You've had one more than me! That makes it mine!"

"Nuh-uh."

"You're lying!" Murphy made to snatch at it.

Connor grinned and held it further away.

Murphy turned his head to glare at Noah, who was laughing at them, "You know he's lying!" He insisted. "Da! Do something!"

Everyone in the room stilled.

Then Murphy took advantage of his twin being stunned to silence by reaching up and grabbing the bottle. "Ha!"

"Hey!" Connor protested.

"Connor." Noah said, mock-sternly, "We all know that you have had one more than Murphy already."

Connor let go of a triumphant Murphy and actually pouted. "Is this because he called you Da first? Urgh!" He threw up his hands. "Favouritism!" He then side looked Murphy mischievously. "Its ok little brother, as the eldest child, I will let you have the final beer. Call it my sacrifice to my baby brother."

"Shut up! I'm older!" Murphy elbowed his twin and took a gulp of the beer.

Something must have clicked between both of them simultaneously, as suddenly Murphy was lowering the bottle from his lips and they met each other's eyes. Then both of them looked at Noah, so exactly in time with each other that it was almost unnerving.

"Say, _Da_," Connor elongated the word with a sweet smile on his lips. Although he was obviously saying it to get on Noah's good side, Noah would always remember it as the first time Connor called him 'Da' since they were reunited. Just as he would also always remember that the first time Murphy said it was when his sons were both childishly arguing over a bottle of beer. "Do you know which one of us was born first?"

Both stared at him expectantly.

"You mean your mother never told you?" Noah asked.

"Of course she hasn't. She thinks it's hilarious." Murphy said.

"Evil woman." Connor added. "She's caused us years and years of torment."

"Did she never even give you a clue?" That sounded like the woman he fell in love with – forever the joker. It seemed their sons had followed closely in her footsteps.

"She told us something not too long ago." Murphy said. They both looked down at their crotches.

"But she was just messing with us." Connor said decisively, looking back up at Noah. "So, who is it really?"

"Yeah." Murphy agreed, attention also back on their father. "Who's oldest?"

Noah knew. Of course Noah knew. He remembered the day his sons were born as though it were yesterday. "It was only a couple of minutes apart."

"Still counts." Murphy said firmly.

"Yep, every minute counts." Connor confirmed.

Noah thought about telling them. He looked into their eager faces, but then he said "Would this knowledge mean that the younger one would forever live his life in disappointment?"

"Oh he would be teased mercilessly." Connor didn't bother to deny it. "It will be horrible for Murphy."

Murphy glared at his twin. "But the oldest – who _will _be me – will live the rest of his life in victory."

"Right." Noah said slowly. He pretended to look like he was thinking. "I'm sorry boys," He said. "I don't remember."

"Lies!" Connor said loudly, pointing at him accusingly. "You do remember! You just want us to be miserable forever!"

"Aww come on, just tell us!" Murphy almost pleaded.

Noah held up his hands in defence, "Sort this one out with your mother, boys. But I'd rather you both be equally miserable than just one of you."

"Oh thanks." Connor sat back against the headboard with a huff.

Murphy shrugged a shoulder and then continued to drink the beer as noisily as possible to annoy his brother.

Noah watched Connor shove Murphy so that he nearly fell off the bed.

Noah smiled to himself.

x-x

It was another week or so until the boys started calling him 'Da' constantly. They were beginning to truly trust him at last.

x-x

A week after that, they began to plan with Smecker, Greenly, Duffy and Dolly about how exactly they were going to take down Papa Joe Yakavetta, whilst simultaneously revealing the existence of The Boondock Saints to the world.

* * *

That's it folks!  
I really hope you enjoyed it!  
Thank you for reading!  
Any reviews would be greatly loved and appreciated!  
mnm37 x


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